Carnal Fragility
by Scilja
Summary: UPDATED::This smile I put on, this perky attitude, this skip in my step, is all part of my personal strive to move forward. I will continue to keep secret the pain for a brighter tomorrow.
1. Penumbra

From the Desk of Scilja:

Enough with the fluffy happy sap! As much as we all love that tingly feeling, I have decided to take on the darker side of the border. Say hello to angst!

* * *

DISCLAIMER: The idea and characters of Rurouni Kenshin are the property of Watsuki Nobuhiro.

**Carnal Fragility**

**by**** Scilja**

**_If blood will flow when flesh and steel are one…_**

**One – Penumbra**

The heat of the night prickled, drawing out feverish sweat through pores, every inch of skin imprinted with a burning sheen. Limbs punished already mused sheets and dark tresses flayed about restlessly. Indistinct noises murmured unconsciously as the mind took on a path of its own.

_Crimson pool seeped through crevices._

_Smudged prints of feet and hands littered the scenery._

_Clashing of steel against steel resonated mercilessly…_

_Strangled cries left unheard._

_Eyes shut, heads turned away._

_Teeth clenched, rivulets of tears stained faces._

_For better…for worse…_

_For life…for death…_

_For past…for future…_

**_…Ba…ku…mat…su…_**

My body bolted upright from the mattress, chest heaving rapidly in desperate gulps of air. Eyes stung from distress, the blanket fisted tightly in trembling hands. The burning pricks against my already fevered skin and ragged breathing were the only things that welcomed my awakening.

I reached behind me for the tea kettle and empty cup, pouring a hefty amount into the container. Although not its usual warmth, the cold liquid made its familiar strong, heavy path down my throat. I welcomed the familiar ache that bloomed in my chest. The heels of my palms ground against bleary eyes as I managed to choke back a sob. On routine, my parched lips chanted a familiar mantra in hopes to calm my jittery nerves. What almost felt like hours later, my spent body flopped back down on the futon. Feebly, I could only close my lids at the lingering intensity of the nightmare.

This was not a first. In fact, it was one of many nights. Ever since my father had left, haunting images replaced his absence. I am not one to speak of the problems in my life especially when you have a family like I do. You do not want to put any more pain into their already torn pasts. So I keep it in this small room, under this ceiling, and right in my heart.

But the fact is that no matter how many times the throes of the past crawled into my dreams, the terror and dismay was freshly overwhelming. Despite the fact that Japan was headed into a new period, the Meiji era, the haunting of the bloody battle that resulted for it still very much remained.

There wasn't always a bright sunbeam that shone down on Japan. There were also gloomy days enraptured by dark clouds that hovered up above. The country had gained more but it had also lost more. Families were broken down; the deaths of husbands, sons, brothers, nephews, uncles, cousins who fought in the war, never to return. The struggle to survive the grating economy was a hard impact on the people. Memories of the murky battles lay imprinted behind the eyes of every man, woman, and child.

The Bakumatsu. The battle for ground between the Ishin Shishi and Tokugawa Shogunate. The fate of the country rested on the outcome. But with it, several rebellions went up against the ideals of the two main parties. Many chose the path of their own and died for their sad decision. There were victories and then there were losses.

The after effects of the warfare brought negative and positive outcomes. The current days were certainly less taut and people were slowly becoming more at ease to move on forward. Though it was a difficult struggle to survive until every dawn of day, any who looked for hope put forth their best efforts. But sometimes, those efforts lead to their graves.

It was from the revolution that father decided to take up kenjutsu, drilling the concept of using the sword as a form of protection rather than killing. The Kamiya Kasshin Ryuu. The sword-art that rejected the idea of Satsujin-ken – the sword that gives death – for Katsujin-ken – the sword that gives life. If such an idea were to present itself in the rage of war they would have been bombarded with endless insults and mockery. But now, in the new era, such concepts were possible.

Contrary to his and my own beliefs, I housed a previous assassin of the Bakumatsu whose ideal nowhere near touched mine. Hitokiri Battousai of the Ishin Shishi. A black envelope called him to seal the end of the name within its folds. He hid. He ran. He found. He killed. Swiftly. Silently. Without a trace.

Hard to believe that the man now lived under the same roof as me. His persona was far from the deadly slayer. In its place, a passive man who wandered the streets of Tokyo and bumped into a seventeen year old. He held a constant façade of calmness and a character of simplicity that lead many to doubt if he really was the infamous killer of the night, regardless of the renowned traits of red hair and scarred cheek Battousai was acquainted for.

It was still hard for many to adjust to the new age. The transition was yet too difficult to make. And like me, many are still frequently visited by the haunting of the past. But I accepted it. I had to go on. This smile I put on, this perky attitude, this skip in my step, is all part of my personal strive to move forward. I will continue to keep secret the pain for a brighter tomorrow.

Long minutes passed of staring at the ceiling when a light rapping interrupted my train of thoughts.

"Kaoru-dono?" a familiar voice drifted through the bamboo shoji.

Perhaps it was time that I got up. "Yes?"

"Ah, good, you are awake," I could feel him smile behind the sheer wall that separated us. "Breakfast is ready for you, de gozaru."

"Thank you, Kenshin, I will be right there."

* * *

Himura Kenshin pulled back the sleeves of his gi and tied it around his back to prevent staining the fabric. He bent down to open the lower cupboards. "What would you like this morning, Kaoru-dono?"

I eyed the pot boiling on the stove where the miso had already started, "Rice balls and a side dish of fish would do fine."

The corners of his lips quirked up and red locks bobbed as he nodded, "Good, you can help me make the rice balls."

Eyes widened, "Kenshin! Do you know _who_ you just asked to cook? The Burnt-crisp Wonder?"

He chuckled, "I know you aren't that bad of a cook, Kaoru-dono. Besides, I would like your accompaniment this morning."

This man was a mystery to me. Predictable was not one of his traits. One time he could be doing something and the next completely knock me off tracks. My lips curved in a playful grin before I too proceeded to roll my sleeves, "Mou, Kenshin, you sly, cunning man."

He cocked his head to the side, "Ah, so I am."

"Don't say I didn't warn you."

"I'll keep that in mind, Kaoru-dono," he pressed a roundly-formed rice ball into my palm, "here, it already has meat inside, just wrap it up."

"Yes, sir!" I said with such vigor that prompted a laugh from him.

Though it took a few trials to the idea of wrapping into a triangular shape, the rice balls were complete. Of couse, Kenshin's creation stood in perfection. I took pride that mine had improved from bulgy to firm.

"You are getting better, de gozaru," he said from stirring the soup.

My eyes rolled at that, "Quit teasing me, Kenshin."

"Teasing?" he feigned innocence and adorned a grin that sent shivers down my spine. "Who said anything about teasing?"

That earned him a playful smack on the arm, "It will take decades for me to surpass you in culinary!" This game we play may not be much, but I owe it to getting to know more of Kenshin in this natural mood without being encompassed by anger, pain, burden, or misery. Arms crossed, I mumbled, "It's got to be a sword skill."

He tapped the underside of my chin lightheartedly, "Actually, I prefer watching you in battle than cook. It's more exciting than waiting for water to heat."

Even for having been living together for two years Kenshin still had a way of making the warmth in my belly tingle. I quickly composed myself from near blushing and moved to retrieve a tray, "Nice shot, Kenshin, soon enough women will be throwing themselves over you," I batted my eyelashes prettily.

He chuckled as he placed some food and utensils on the tray, "I try, de gozaru. Now breakfast is ready. Thank you for your help, Kaoru-dono."

"Glad to be of service," I left the kitchen with a smile then seated at the table. Looking at the empty spot next to me, I frowned at a certain student's lack of discipline of being an early riser.

I watched him from afar. It was decided that the best way to observe a person was to look at them when they least expect it. It was not prying but silent assessment. Knowing Kenshin's sharp senses, eventually I would be caught. Until then, I allowed myself the risk.

The red-head hummed a nameless tune. His knife chopped a rhythm on a radish while steam hissed from a nearby pot. He looked so calm, so worry-free, certainly not the face of a hitokiri. Occasionally a faint crease appeared on his brow.

This was Kenshin. And as much as he did, the hitokiri continued to live inside him, because after all, it _was_ him.

There were times where Kenshin had invented a guise so different from his part that it posed as a significant question. He had divulged his past of being a hitokiri at the time of Enishi's revenge. What was odd, though, was why he desperately wanted to cage his history as if he was disgusted with himself.

Was it that harsh? Was he that self-loathing? How had he been influence so that caused him to never look back again?

His purpose was to seek redemption and atonement, a chance to live in the era without the blood. Yet, for having been with him for nearly two years, I still didn't know who he really was.

Kenshin was extremely cautious about everything no matter how subtle he wanted to appear. Letting him go on as if I didn't sense anything was part of my soundless way of figuring out the man himself. He was an intelligent man when he spoke, but it was what he did not say that I wanted to hear the most.

The story behind battle scars was haunting. Scars generally do go away, but the ones that stay the longest were said to have a severe impact on the bearer. For as long as he carried the mark of "X" on his cheek he would forever carry the wound of his past. I was given a glimpse of Battousai himself during the battle with an old acquaintance, the third captain of the Shinsen-gumi squad, Saitoh Hajime.

It was then that I received an insight of the Bakumatsu. If it was anything like the duel between the two men, the period could be summed up to be ruthless, unforgiving, unyielding, and vindictive. The good-natured manner of Kenshin was wiped off by a flick of a steel blade, rising in his stead an amber-eyed warrior who acted without holding anything back. Try as I might to call him, my frantic pleas fell on deaf ears.

Who they saw now was not the legendary hitokiri. He was a cook, a laundry washer, a friend, a role model, an ordinary man. But I knew that beneath it all, Kenshin was not just a typical man.

Who are you, Himura Kenshin?

"Kaoru-dono, would you like more miso?"

My cheeks tinged with a rosy pink when I realized that Kenshin had caught me staring at him. I fidgeted nervously in my seat and cast a side glance away from his gaze, "N-no, Kenshin, I'm fine, thank you." In haste to lessen further humiliation, I stood and made ready to relieve the used platter, "I think I'm going to prepare for training now. I appreciate the breakfast, Kenshin."

I was startled when a hand came on top of mine and I looked up to see Kenshin smiling. That speed of his was going to knock me senseless one of these days, "Leave the dishes to me, Kaoru-dono."

With a nod, I thanked him once more before departing to the dojo hall.

* * *

Hot.

The perfect word to describe the night. Not to mention roasting, boiling, sizzling. Take your pick. Everything seemed to be engulfed by heat waves.

My irritable groan resounded and the blankets were kicked to the far corner of the room. That did little to help the situation because I found the futon to be stiff and terribly uncomfortable. I was bold enough to open the back door to release the heated air but it only increased the temperature. Tonight was a night that did not accommodate for a restful sleep.

Thank god I had the privacy of my own room otherwise the others would drop their jaws at seeing their little Tanuki in a yukata too short for modesty's sake.

"Mou, this is unbelievable," I rose from the futon and went into the bathroom.

I sighed in pleasure at the contact of cold water against my face. I then walked to the kitchen to retrieve a glass of water and drank thirstily to quench my dry throat.

The floor creaked with every step I made back to my room, reminding me of the age of this house. The setting looked eerily mysterious, but I was used to the house's odds and ends. In times like these, when the moon was covered by black clouds, even the shadows appeared sinister.

My feet halted when I felt an odd stir pass through me. My back suddenly felt completely vulnerable. I spun around and crouched into an offensive stance. No one was in the dark hallway. I breathed a sigh of relief but that was a mistake too soon when an invisible shadow sent me paralyzed with fear. I turned swiftly to the other direction. Nothing. With a mute groan, I shook my head, 'Must have been something in that water.'

Opening the shoji, a loud thud caught my attention and I whipped my head around once again in attempt to find the source of the noise. My heart stilled when a series of scratching sounds followed. I stepped back out into the hallway and the noises increased in volume. I moved in front of Yahiko's room, hearing only snores from the boy. Eyes widened upon realization, I dashed to the room next to his and frantically pulled open the shoji door.

The blankets and pillow had been thrown halfway across the room. The sheets rumpled to an extent. Apparently, tonight was one of the rare nights Kenshin had chosen to sleep on the futon rather than habitually against a wall.

The moaning came from Kenshin whose face held an expression of agony. His arms bunched the futon harshly while beads of sweat dripped down his forehead. His body turned this way and that, his breathing choppy and irregular.

"Kenshin!" I whispered frantically and knelt by his side. I reached out to touch him and nearly screamed when his hand shot out and made a vice-like grip around my wrist. I bit my lip to prevent from crying out at the strength, "Kenshin, please wake up."

I couldn't hold back a gasp when his arm locked around my waist and pulled me roughly against his body. Right then and there, I was given a close view of the angled creases in his brow and the occasional clenching of his closed lids and teeth.

This was post-war in all its cruel glory. Gone was the carefree façade replaced with the agony of the past that would haunt him through physical and mental torture. I brushed back the damp bangs off his face and caressed his cheek, trying to soothe whatever troubled him.

A hoarse sound came from his lips and Kenshin began to thrash slightly. "Kenshin!" I cried, solely focused on the man before me, "Wake up, Kenshin, wake up!" I prodded his shoulders, "Kenshin!"

I was hurtled to the side when an unknown force sprung him up to a sitting position. My gaze hurriedly sought his face where his eyes lay opened, glazed over and unblinking, but there was no familiarity in their amethyst depths. He was still in the middle of his nightmare.

I scrambled back to his trembling form and embraced him tight enough to feel the pounding of my heart against his fevered chest, "Kenshin, it's enough," I hushed, pleaded, prayed to Kami-sama, "it's alright. Please, Kenshin, please…"

That was all it took for him to slump against me as his breathing and heartbeat gradually resumed its normal pace. The moonlight streaming on our bodies, I continued to hold him close and began to rock back and forth, 'Thank god…' my hand smoothed the back of his head, eyes closing in quiet relief, 'thank god.'

Minutes passed until I unwove my arms from his sleeping form and slowly eased him back down on the futon. The steady rise and fall of his chest told me he was asleep.

With a deep exhale, I glimpsed at his features, free of troubled misery, finally serene. My fingers trailed across his scarred cheek, following the vivid outline of the cross. 'Is this how every night is for you? That you keep your pain to yourself and during the day it's a whole new character?'

How sickenly ironic that he shared the same situation as I.

The man on the futon paid no heed to my thoughts. I sat back helplessly in the dark, watching him for a while longer until I was certain he was going to be fine. With a secret kiss on his forehead, I stood up and returned to my own quarters.

Only then did I feel something wet against my cheek. A lone tear slid down my face and I blinked back the threatening wave of tears. I wiped my eyes dry and collapsed unto the futon. The entire ordeal left me both confused and exhausted. Never had I seen Kenshin this way. No. Of course not. Because Kenshin was that selfless to keep the pain to himself.

It was no surprise to me that Kenshin would occasionally revert back into the past. I came from a line of sword fighting so the psychological aspects that followed were not news. There were suicides, attempted murder, hallucinations, and troubled conscience that affected several swordsmen after their battle days. Living the life after the war was one of the hardest endeavors a swordsman could do.

Nonetheless, Kenshin boldly chose that path for atonement for his previous sins. And my family, as odd as they were, was the closest I ever came to having one. We shared laughter, sorrow, anger, a welcoming aura of comfort and understanding. To see Kenshin endure the hardships through his own was like a knife jabbing at my heart.

Muddled emotions coursed through me: hurt, concern, incomprehension, and most of all, anger. I was frustrated with myself for not having been able to be with him when he needed it. Then I realized that I had been the same way, hiding my own problems from the others. Why should I tell them of something that I've been able to keep at bay for years? They were coping with the tanuki enough as it is.

Mine was trivial compared to the long trails of suffering Kenshin had endured. All he sought for was a sense of peace from his past deeds. His was an ongoing battle of the soul. Physically, I could offer him an embrace or greet with the smile and a wave. But it was mainly his spirit that needed healing.

Kenshin always had a way of reaching out to people. It was time I helped him.

* * *

I jolted awake for the second time that night. I groggily forced myself awake. Was I hearing things? I peered outside and noticed the rustling of the branches on the tree. The howling of the wind provided a suffice answer to my worries and I fell back to sleep.

It wasn't long before I reopened my eyes. It happened again. There was no mistaking it. There _was _something strange going on. I was in no state to fight if there was a thief or unwelcomed visitor since the night's previous events had drained most of my energy. So I lay immobile on the bed, anticipating for the next act.

Dread fell upon me when I heard my name spoken in a grating tone. I did not attempt to move my head to view my surroundings. I was petrified. Part of me wanted to scream but somehow my voice was blocked.

Laughter rang in my ears, though it was hard to tell whether it was masculine or feminine. My heart thudded loudly against its caged chest. This was no familiar laughter. Yahiko's was loud and jovial, Sanosuke's was boisterous, Megumi's was tittered, and Kenshin's was heartfelt. The anonymous laugh sounded empty.

_My laugh _would_ be empty considering I am not of the flesh._

I came fully alert and got to my knees. Adrenaline rushed through my veins, giving me enough drive to reach for a bokken, "Who's there?"

_Feisty, are we?_

For a moment I thought I had gone insane. I couldn't be hearing voices. I shouldn't. Nevertheless, my curiosity overcame my fear. "Show yourself!"

_I'm afraid that's impossible._

"Why is that?"

_I'm dead._

For a short while no action or words were made. I lowered the bokken and croaked in disbelief, "Ghost?"

_If you'd prefer that term for me._

This was it. I had gone over the brink of sanity. Nightly terrors have finally caught up with me. I was prepared to laugh in hilarity or scream, but I just didn't know which to do first.

_You doubt me_.

"I doubt myself." And hear I am talking to no-one. I am crazy.

_Here._

I swallowed a surprised yelp when the candle in my room miraculously lit on fire.

_Proof that you're not imagining things._

I forced my knees not to buckle and bit back the rising wave of dizziness. "Who are you?" My grip on the weapon tightened, "What are you doing here?"

_I'm a ghost, like you said, and I'm here to help you._

"Help me? I don't remember asking for any help."

_You still doubt me._

I blinked.

_Is that so? What about Himura Kenshin?_

Even with Kenshin's changed ways, it was disgusting to find there are those who just can't accept his strive for redemption. Determination welled inside me that this was another attempt to hurt the swordsman either for their own selfish revenge or for claim of power. I posed for an attack and sneered through grit teeth, "What do you want with Kenshin?"

_Actually, I should be asking you that._

"What?"

_Because ghosts cannot communicate bodily, ghosts respond to conscious thoughts. And your thoughts struck me. You say you want to know more about him? _

"What does that have to do with you?"

_I can give you the window to his soul. I can show you things that he wouldn't budge to show others. I can tell you of the man Himura Kenshin came to be. Isn't that what you want to know?_

A heavy silence engulfed the room.

_Ah, so you do want to know. There are many questions that burden your mind. I can give the answers to them. _

My eyes narrowed in suspicion, "How are you able to do this?"

_I can still get in contact with the physical world because souls live among there, the only difference is they have a physical body. _

"Why are you doing this?"

_Why not?_

"Because ghosts don't just come around and offer insight of a person."

_No, they don't, so consider yourself lucky. _

The offer was tempting. Despite the growing strength of our relationship, I knew it would take years for Kenshin to really open up to me. He insisted that they best not know of the past, having this inane idea that it would put them in jeopardy. But here was a chance practically given to me to get to really know him. It would be a great step.

"Won't that be intrusion?"

_Intrusion if I let him know that I am peeking into his soul. He is not going to know about any of it._

I paused. If I was going to be insane, might as well take advantage of it. "Will he get hurt?"

_Like I said, girl, I am a ghost. How can I hurt him? Now, what is your response?_

I stared at the wall across the room, a mere separation of my room from Kenshin's. The earlier torment of his nightmare barreled in my mind. The pain, the covered persona, the loneliness. Kenshin was not going to suffer anymore.

"I accept."

TBC…


	2. Premonition

DISCLAIMER: The idea and characters of Rurouni Kenshin are the property of Watsuki Nobuhiro.

* * *

**Carnal Fragility**

**by** **Scilja**

_**Drying in the colour of the evening sun…**_

**Two – Premonition**

I winced at the loud pounding of the door. That, however, could not compare to the pounding of my temples.

"Oi, busu! Will ya wake up already! How am I supposed to be a swordsman with a lazy butt teacher in bed!"

Groaning, I made an attempt to sit up only to find the room spin and instantly gave up unto the futon. My body was sluggish, a burden to move, as was the heaviness that settled on my eyelids.

"Kaoru?" I was surprised and touched that Yahiko chose to say my name rather than the favored "busu". Coming from him, it indicated a rare display of sincerity. "Are you okay?"

I did not know how to answer the question. My yukata stuck to my skin irritatingly. The high temperature of last night must have done a number on my body because it felt too much of a burden to move. I tried to speak but my voice scratched at its dryness.

"Yahiko? Is Kaoru-dono alright?"

Kenshin.

How would he be this morning after last night? That seemed to jerk me awake. I had to see how he was holding up. I tried to speak but a sharp pain shot in my head that prevented me from doing so.

The distant noises of the shoji door sliding and the entrance of footsteps flitted through my ears. "Yahiko, bring Kaoru-dono a glass of water." My student's dashing steps went and Kenshin's sudden approach to my bedside came. "Kaoru-dono?"

I looked at his face. The sketched lines of pain were gone. The swirling pools of amethyst remained. No sign of previous agony. Good.

Wait.

What was this odd feeling? There was no doubt about it, a foreign sensation was about. Like a forbidden secret. I couldn't name it but it was annoying the hell out of me. I may not be as experienced as Kenshin when it comes to reading ki, but I knew when a misplaced vibe was present. Apparently thinking about it pushed my already strained limits and I moaned my displeasure.

Yahiko reentered the room which prompted Kenshin to sit me up and bring the glass near my lips. I drank gratefully. I nearly cringed at the cold hand on my forehead. "You're feverish." His brow sloped in concern. Great, he's worrying again. And here I thought I was going to help you lessen his anxieties. This was not a good start.

"Yahiko, put some ice in a bag. I'll prepare a bucket of cool water and a washcloth."

"Right, Kenshin."

"I'm fine."

Before they could act, I mustered whatever strength remained to heave my leaden body into a sitting position. I prepared to stand until Kenshin's hand on my shoulder ceased any further action. "Kaoru-dono, you are not well enough to be up today, de gozaru yo. You should get back in bed."

I winced at the "yo" bit of his "de gozaru". It was that simple little add-on which further stressed his point. I gave him a small smile. Kenshin's problem with it was that he always worried about others and tended to forget about himself. "Kenshin, I'm just a little…affected by the heat. I'll be fine after a bath. You wouldn't mind preparing one, would you?"

Over the years, I learned to my great advantage that Kenshin could not resist my little pout. The red-head nodded and went to perform my request. But I knew that I would be under constant watch of a hawk's eye for the whole day. He'll probably sneak in the fox doctor, too.

* * *

Yahiko had whined when Kenshin said I wouldn't be able to teach today, so he was stuck doing the chores plus my usual workload. Then again, who was I to argue if it got me to sit with Kenshin under a cherry tree? Of course, the outside air was Kenshin's idea and he was a smart man for saying so. I don't think I could have taken more of Yahiko's quips.

I snuggled closer to lie on his shoulder. He apparently thought I was cold and draped his arm around me. No, this show of cuddling does not mean we became a couple. Though that is the greatest wish I want to come true. This display of affection between us is very comfortable, like between best friends, because that's exactly what we are.

His chest rumbled from chuckling. It was an odd but pleasant sensation. "I am beginning to think that your sickness was an excuse to get rid of chores, de gozaru."

I gasped, "How could you think that, Kenshin! I am offended."

He shifted a bit so I saw him quirk a brow towards me, "The color is back in your face."

"I told you that a bath would cure it."

He gave my arm a squeeze, "Feeling better?"

"Hmm," I tilted my head back, "I should be asking you that question."

"Oro?"

"Kenshin," I turned my body towards him and our eyes locked, "I know you didn't have the most fitful sleep last night."

His expression darkened momentarily then was replaced just as quickly with indifference, "Kaoru-dono?"

I smacked his arm, "Himura Kenshin! Don't play dumb with me!"

"Ororo! For a sick woman, you are strong!"

"Really, Kenshin," my hand curled against the front of his gi, urging him not to slip away into his inner shell, "I saw what happened."

"Kaoru-dono, it is nothing for you to worry about," he smoothed the back of my nape.

"But what if I want to?" I leaned into the hand that found its way to caressing my cheek. "I was there, Kenshin," I looked straight into his eyes, daring him to lie, "I saw everything."

There was a small catch to his breath and he knew he couldn't hide it anymore. He gave a resigned sigh and leaned back against the tree. Nevertheless, the arm around me did not lessen its hold. "It's nothing serious, de gozaru yo, I can handle it."

"Just how long are you planning to handle it?" I frowned, "Because fourteen years is a damn long time."

He closed his eyes and said nothing. I brushed back some of the fallen bangs from his strong jaw and only then did he open his eyes again. His hardened gaze drew me in. Even if it was only for a fleeting second, I saw it. I saw the turmoil that swirled in those amethyst depths. I saw the pain, the suffering, the struggle to atone for his whole life.

I surprised him by a fierce embrace. "I've told you before, Kenshin, and I'm going to keep saying this again until you get it stuck in that thick head of yours. You deserve to be happy." I pulled back to pull his face near so we were nose to nose, "Everyone is entitled to happiness, and yes, even you. And don't try to protest against it either. There is only so much you can do, and I believe saving Japan from its downfall is more than enough."

He closed his eyes and took hold of my hands, "As much as I appreciate what you are telling me, Kaoru-dono, bringing Japan into a new era lead to countless sacrifices. Too many of them."

"Sacrifices are sometimes necessary! They pass on another for the sake of something else. Otherwise, it would just end and nothing would go on. Was it not for the sake of the future?"

"Yes, but the future lives on. The lives of the ones I have taken will not. I cannot bring back a father to his wife and children. I cannot bring back a brother to his sister. I cannot bring back a friend because I have killed them!" His voice gritted with a harsh tone that made it clear of how much turmoil lingered inside him.

I firmly squeezed his hand, "Sadly, it is true you cannot bring someone back from the dead. But what choice did you really have? It was a war. It was not about holding back. You did what you could."

Then for the first time since I've known him, Kenshin bowed his head and gave in to resigned despair, "I wish…I could have done more."

* * *

'Spirit, show yourself! Haunt me! Disturb my dreams and fulfill your promise to me!'

I didn't care if I thought the visitation was a dud. I didn't care if it was just a figment of my hallucination. I've been trying for two years and came to little progress to reach Kenshin. I had never known just how just much he was truly suffering. This was my last resort.

I pounded the floor in silent plea, curling my body into a painfully tight fetal position in hopes to lessen the ache in my heart. The aroma of the incense from the make-shift altar and charms taunted me into an empty abyss. I was desperate. Kenshin was in a dire situation that could dissolve into unspeakable extremities I couldn't bear to imagine.

I cried out in frustration into the burrows of my arms, '**_SPIRIT!_**'

_I do not need to be summoned by an altar and revolting smoke_.

Skeptically, I peered up from my crouched state only to come face to face with my bare wall. "What?"

_I am not that kind of spirit._

I somehow managed to move from my immobilized state. "Then what are you?"

_Spirits you summon are usually able to give you some aid in whatever troubles you_. _Like love, strength, or fertility._

"In a way, aren't you helping me by giving me a better understanding of Kenshin?"

_No. What I am doing is merely showing you what is beneath the surface. I am not improving your situation or granting you any sort of...ability. I am making you see more sides to the picture. It is up to you to handle it._

"I still can't believe I'm talking with a ghost," I said in an exhale and closed my eyes for a second. "AH!" I looked at the freshly burnt imprint of a circle on my left hand.

_Need any more proof that I'm real?_

"A less evident sign would have been more appreciated," I muttered, amazed that the injury on my flesh did not cause any pain.

_I doubt you would believe me then._

I knew it was right. In any case, I shook my head to gather my thoughts together, "Do you just show up randomly?"

_I show up when necessary. _

I clenched the robe of my yukata, the force biting through the fabric, "Then you know the reason why you're here tonight."

_Of course._

"Then do it."

_You must fall asleep first._

A scowl came on my face, "How would I be able to know what is going on?"

_Sleep puts the mind at an unconscious state. That is why dreams allow further access into the depths of the person. _

"Unbelievable," I breathed.

_Believe it._

* * *

I didn't know how long I was stranded in darkness. It was pitch black and I had trouble finding myself in the never-ending shadows. "Spirit! Tell me this isn't some kind of sick joke!"

_You are seeing into his mind now. A recreation of his very soul._

"I don't see anything. All I see is darkness."

_Like I said, an imagery of his soul._

I regarded the darkness more broodingly. Kenshin's soul? It was a desolate place. I was lost in it. The shadows surrounded me in every angle, suppressing me with guilt and remorse. The load was unbearable.

"I never thought…it was this heavy…"

_Ah, it begins._

A blinding flash came out of nowhere. After a few moments of confusion, I blinked back into awareness and found myself standing in a darkened alley. The murky stench of something rotten instantly filled my nostrils. I scanned my surroundings and nearly lurched at what I saw. The scattered remains of a human corpse lay in the corner. The gash I made out on his head and torso revealed the ending to be a brutal, merciless death.

I staggered my way out of the alley before the building nausea could overwhelm me. I would have gone further if it hadn't been for the fast approaching sounds of footsteps. The dour atmosphere told me to hide behind a stack of boxes. I prayed that whoever came could not hear the loud beating of my heart. Through the slit between the crates I could see a cut view of the street. I tried to make out the scenery as best as I could in the rising fog.

The noises were getting louder. This time, though, I could make out the frantic breaths of men. They were running. As if their lives depended on it. But from what? Or who?

My question was soon to be answered when one of the men dashed past my view. He yelled in absolute fright before a flicker of silver tore his body in two. I immediately clamped my hands over my mouth to force screams silent.

"It's the Hitokiri Battousai!"

The other men scurried in a hysterical panic. But their escape was in vain as I watched in horror at their bodies being sliced ruthlessly like pieces of paper. Their cries echoed into the night, searing me with an impression that reawakened terrors I thought had been long buried. This was the Bakumatsu.

Breathing hitched in my throat when the scene suddenly came to a taut silence. The battle wasn't over for a deadly voice pierced through the air.

"Your life ends tonight."

A stubby man faltered backwards, tripping on his own clumsiness into a crawling heap of sobs and yelps. "No…NO! Please!"

Another man stepped into view. In that instant, everything stopped and all I could feel was the sting of the frigid air against my skin. My eyes widened in shock to see a familiar red of hair of a figure adorned in black.

"No! Please! I'll give you anything! I have good connections, I'll – "

The man said no more. I bit back another wave of nausea as blood littered the foggy mist. For one bleak moment, eternity followed his body plummet to the cold, hard ground.

My body was trembling, and it was not from the chill. The hardness of his gaze. The coldness of his heart. The scent of bloodlust that lingered around him. He was the personification of Death.

A glimmer of gold orbs skimmed the area, unknowingly meeting my own eyes before flicking the blood off his blade and vanishing into the night.

The scene quickly faded and I was shrouded in darkness once more. A bright flash brought me back to the familiar space of my room. I could do nothing but fall to the floor in tears.

TBC…


	3. Consequence

DISCLAIMER: The idea and characters of Rurouni Kenshin are the property of Watsuki Nobuhiro.

* * *

**Carnal Fragility**

**by** **Scilja**

_**Tomorrow's rain will wash the stains away…**_

**Three – Consequence**

At Yahiko's battle cry, I barely dodged what would have been a week's worth of pain. Our weapons made contact and I put my weight on the bokken to force the boy back.

"Hyah!" I swept my feet under him to send his form careening to the floor and dashed forward to bring the bokken dangerously close to his neck. For a second, we exchanged stares, from student to teacher, friend to friend, and the familiarity of brother and sister. I took a glimpse of the boy, forced to grow up faster than most his age. Though we seldom exchanged words beyond our bickering, Yahiko took on the greatest pride in my life. I knew without a doubt he would be a strong man in heart, mind and body. But for now, I would have to keep his butt in line.

"Give yourself enough room to prepare for an unexpected attack." I stepped away to signal the end of the match while he gathered some breath back into his lungs. "Keep practicing the katas I taught you this morning."

"Kaoru-dono?"

I jumped at the sudden presence of Kenshin behind me. Laying a hand over my racing heart, I hissed, "Kenshin, don't do that!"

Smiling apologetically, he held up two cups of tea, "My pardons, but I thought you might be thirsty after training."

I returned a smile at his thoughtfulness, "Thank you, Kenshin, but I really must change out of these clothes first." Placing the bokken unto its rack, I exited the dojo.

I pleaded to high heavens that Kenshin did not pick up any restless vibes from me. Though that would defy his perfect ability to read ki, I couldn't take the chance of letting him know I was going over the cuckoo's nest. It was gnawing my insides that I couldn't stand to be near Kenshin. What made me nervous, however, is the likely chance that he knows the cause of my anxiety. I just hope I didn't make it that obvious. I wouldn't know how to confront him about it.

My thoughts got a hold of my focus again. It was bad enough that it occurred in today's training with Yahiko. I had too many close calls. Even Yahiko gave me a few odd glances during practice. This was starting to become more bothersome. I was dying to vent out this frustration and screaming or punching came highly appealing.

I sighed. Tae was right. I was acting less feminine each day. Tough luck on living it up as a female. But can you blame me when all I'm surrounded all day is testosterone? Heck, just look at what I do for a living!

Passing through the yard, I saw the empty laundry basin and my feet stopped on its own when it instantly reminded me of the red-head. But all I could see was the hitokiri, not the rurouni.

I blinked. An exasperated huff escaped my lips. Snap out of it! Get a hold of yourself!

"Yahiko."

I froze. Simply hearing his voice had a dire impact on me. I had not realized that my feet had unconsciously found its way to the main house. Kenshin was inside. Only the thin walls of a shoji separated us.

"Oi, Kenshin."

"How was your training?"

A groan, "I think busu actually enjoys making me suffer!"

"You are improving, de gozaru yo."

"'Ya think?"

Kenshin must've nodded for Yahiko gave a boisterous shout. "Just you wait, Kenshin! I'll be the second greatest swordsman next to you!"

"Maa, maa," Kenshin chuckled, "I believe you will, and perhaps, even surpass me."

"Hey, Kenshin, did something go on between you and busu?"

I bit my cheek hard.

"Oro?"

"'Cuz she seemed a little out of it this morning. Like something's bugging her."

The beating of my heart drowned out everything around me and I barely strained to hear Kenshin's words, "She'll be fine, Yahiko. Yesterday she was sick, de gozaru, and she's just recovering today." I released a breath that I did not know I held in.

"Whatever you say, Kenshin," Yahiko replied, his tone clearly tinged with sarcasm. Yahiko yawned, "I'm gonna go take a nap. See 'ya." His retreating steps gradually faded.

I did not know how long Kenshin did not move. I wouldn't dare budge from my spot either. So we both just sat there, back to back, not exactly close and not exactly far away either.

What felt like hours later, finally he, too, left the room. I closed my eyes.

He definitely knew.

_Of course he knows. Would you expect less of him?_

I started in surprise but that quickly dissipated into anger. "I am not in the mood."

_Don't you have any questions about last night? _

Damn spirit. A thousand question marks floated about in my head. I just didn't know which one of the bunch to pick first. Right now, my thoughts were too muddled up for me to think rationally. But I had to ask, "Was that real?"

_As real as that mark on your left hand._

I peered down at the bandaged hand, feeling the imprint taunting at me from beneath the linens of wraps. Of course, the burn did not hurt, but in order to risk severe questioning from a certain red-head's part, I had to feign injury. My hand tightened into a fist, "How?"

_I merely took a small part of his soul to show you. What you saw came straight from him. Now, can you tell me that I am lying?_

"He became a hitokiri to bring Japan into a new era! He didn't choose to become one. He was given the dirty job to keep the hands of scum politicians clean."

_He claims that he killed for the sake of the new age. But look at the new age now. It's still as dirty as it ever was. A battle for power and where they will not hesitate to rid anyone that gets in the way. If anything, the Bakumatsu created more hitokiris and fueled the desire to kill._

"Kenshin never liked killing. That's why he became a rurouni to atone for his sins."

_If he was trul_y _seeking redemption, why would he carry that sakabatou? A sakabatou is still a weapon, regardless of whatever ideal he holds. He has to have a blade near him to tame the wildness of the hitokiri. _

"You're wrong! He uses the sakabatou to protect! How else can he fight against armed enemies?"

_Do you really think that by carrying a sakabatou is enough to redeem himself from the hitokiri blood? Didn't you see his lust? _

The images were still as vivid to me as the heat of the sun. The coldness of his eyes. The unforgiving swings of his blade. The point of no return.

_Did you not see the blood? Did you not hear the screams? Did you not feel the intensity?_

My hands clamped over my ears and I clenched my eyes shut as a shudder went through me. All the nightly terrors that disturbed me through the years came flooding back at full speed. A heavy weight settled atop my chest and squeezed so hard that breathing came to a near halt.

"Stay away…"

I tried to push against those memories. An indiscernible chill gnawed at my skin. A pair of blank eyes broke through, pooling with blood and shrill wails.

"N-no…"

My air supply abruptly ran short. An unknown force constricted my throat. I opened my eyes to see arms of the deceased clawing at my clothes, tugging me down with them into the depths of hell.

I shivered uncontrollably, sweat broke through my pores, "Oh…god…"

Two figures approached me from afar. I gave a mute scream as one of them, carrying his head in his arms, stumbled in my direction. The other crawling towards me with his legs nearly detached from his body. Their skin lifeless and grey, but their eyes lingered about restlessly.

"You…" the head rasped, his hand reaching for my neck, "house the…Battousai…"

The second looked up with a relentless stare. "He lives…we do not…"

"Why!" His fingers grappled my neck, ceasing any noise from me, "Is this…justice…?" He pulled my face forward and spat, "Divine…justice?"

Whether it was lack of air or overwhelming dread, my eyes closed and my heart slept.

* * *

"How is she?"

"It's hard to say. She appears to be in a semi-conscious state. Her breathing and heart rate are back to normal. It's all a matter of waiting."

The smell of medicine and antiseptic confirmed that I was in the clinic. Dimly, I was able to distinguish the voices to belong to Kenshin and Megumi. Oddly enough, though my sense of smell and hearing proved to be functioning normally, the rest of my senses were shut down. My eyes were not willing to open, so all I was met with was a black wall. Numbness overtook my body, rendering any sensation of touch useless. And if food came into my mouth, I was sure I wouldn't be able to taste it.

But my conscious state of mind was still active. That was a good sign. The other 75 of me just wasn't up to it. I had no choice but to lie in bed helplessly until I had enough strength to move about again.

"Do you know how this happened?"

With my mind slowly drifting off to slumber I almost forgot of their presence. At the uneasy tone of his voice, I knew there would be crinkles of worry on Kenshin's face. I forced myself to stay awake.

"My first thought was exhaustion, which made sense since Tokyo was struck with an unbearable heat wave for the past few days. That or something must have caused a great impact on her, Ken-san."

"Like what?" I heard Sano grit, his concern hidden through his anger.

"Most likely a psychological effect. Emotionally or mentally, Kaoru-chan had experienced a traumatizing moment, I'm afraid. Of what exactly, I wish I could say."

"I knew there was something weird going on," said Yahiko. "First she was sick yesterday and this morning she looked spaced out."

"Kaoru-chan was ill?" Megumi sounded insulted, "Why did you not bring her to me?"

"I did not think she had gotten worse, de gozaru. She was with me most of the day so I was aware of whatever condition she was in. But now I regret assuming that she was better." Kenshin swore.

It felt like a hammer pounded on my heart. I hated it whenever Kenshin blamed himself for the suffering of others. I wanted nothing more than to wake up, grab him by the shoulders and tell him that it wasn't his fault. I wanted to shake off that somber expression and turn it into a smile. God, how I hate being weak.

"Ken-san, don't you start blaming yourself!" Thank god Megumi drilled some sense into him. "Being with her the whole day was more than enough. It would seem foolish of you to trouble yourself over something this unexpected! If Kaoru-chan heard this, she would blow a fit! You cannot control a person's health, Ken-san."

Megumi's lecture did not keep Kenshin from growling, "But I could have prevented it."

"You're being selfish, Kenshin," Sano added, "Jou-chan knows how you worry too much and probably didn't want you to be the way you're acting now. Maybe she didn't even know this was coming. Don't go troubling yourself, Kenshin."

Nothing was said after that. The ticking of the clock was the loudest noise I heard. Despite the lack of words, the silence told more than necessary.

"Megumi-dono, you said it is possible that Kaoru-dono was deeply affected mentally?"

"Y-yes, but it's a mere guess, Ken-san. Why do you ask?"

His voice dropped to a whisper, "Because tomorrow is the anniversary of her father's death."

TBC…


End file.
